


Wounds To Heal

by Sonny



Series: SongFics [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, M/M, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-05
Updated: 2003-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Michael have a fight that may have destroyed their friendship; How do both men deal with the aftermath? Write the story around the song "My Immortal" By Evanescence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> God Bless My *Mommy* (Kris/DoT) who tends to be biased when it comes to my writing - She led me by my hand to the B/M Yahoo Group when I had nowhere to showcase my fics - I owe her much LOVE and gratitude; And to all my Brian and Michael co-conspirators... THE Day Will Come, my friends... when true love rises, much patience we shall have... (man, I sounded like Yoda)

~*~ **MY IMMORTAL** : _BY Evanescence_ ~*~  
 _WORD/MUSIC BY Ben Moody/Amy Lee_  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
~~~~~~~~~~LYRICS~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _I'm so tired of being here_**  
 ** _Suppressed by all of my childish fears_**  
 ** _And if you have to leave_**  
 ** _I wish that you would just leave_**  
 ** _Because your presence still lingers here_**  
 ** _And it won't leave me alone...._**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Six days... and counting.

 ***And on the seventh day Brian Kinney imploded***

Christ! I wish! You hear mysterious reports of spontaneously combusting humans, but where are their witnesses? Always seems like the proverbial *tree falling in the woods* spiel.

Six days without a word from Michael. Six days without a simple, "Hey! I'm fine! Not dead! Fuck you! Bye!"

Nothing! Nada Zero! Zilch!

I suppose this is part of my punishment. He stewing, giving me a taste of my own medicine. Well, shit! I know I deserve it! I'm a selfish bastard, right?! Oh, I'll admit it. But I refuse to let Michael slip on by, acting innocent. He should shoulder some of the blame. He delivered plenty of anger, too. He said quite a few things, out of context, that rubbed me wrong. So, feelings were hurt, mutually.

Six days in my new spread and I'm already prepared to move again. The first lasting memory in my new townhouse and it's a fight with Michael. That was the worst thing about the loft when I had to give it up. Michael's lingering presence; most of it good and some of it bad. But I know better. It's not the places he's been that make the memory, it's my fuckin' head. My addiction to him.

Michael's imbedded in my brain. He lingers there even when he's not around. Even when I'm with other men. The worst is when I'm fuckin' those nameless tricks. I close my eyes, thinking back to some stupid conversation we'd had days before. Something he made me crack-up over. Wandering aimlessly within the confines of familiarity I cannot find at the moment.

His scent. That smile. Those damn eyes. The flushed skin. The full, luscious pink lips I've tasted, time and time again.

They've managed to slip through my hands, yet again, like fine grains of sand.

In bed, I reopen my eyes to strangers. I'm so consumed by frustration I pound into them fiercely, wanting them to be someone else. Wondering why they aren't the one person I will love until my last dying breath.

Fuck! I've barely unpacked any of my stuff, since Michael left.

Wait! I kicked him out, actually.

I forget really, because I said it so softly. He exited my life with such a look of loss and despair on his face. That's what's stayed with me the longest. His eyes shadowed and heavy with tears. He quietly put the extra set of keys I'd made for him down on the table. The door shut with a creepy finality to his silence. I wanted, so badly, to call him back. Reel him into my arms, like always. But I was learning if Michael wanted to grow up, he should learn that I DID have a heart and feelings to match.

I'm scraping by on takeout and Emmett's leftovers from some of his catering jobs. Emmett's been sweet and kind to me. Funny he should be friendly toward me when everyone else thinks I've been a complete shit to Michael.

I think my new bed is supposed to come today. It might be tomorrow. I'm not to sure of the exact date. Man, am I lost or what??!! I don't even know what day of the week it is.

All I've been able to do is count those measly fuckin' six days, coming up on six nights.

I haven't been out in weeks. I only go to work and the occasional friendly "Hi/Bye" at Woody's. Babylon has been erased from my list of hangouts, completely. Too many memories. Too many horny men. Too much Justin Fever. And I can't quite work myself into hitting the *scene* again should I happen to bump into Mikey and his faithful husband, Ben.

That's one reason why I've disappeared from the Liberty Diner. The other reason? Well, I'll share that later.

Oh, yeah, the single life has jump started Mr. Taylor's libido. Like one of those toy cars where you pull the plastic stick out in order to rev up its mini-engine. Hell, I don't know! All I can say is my *stick* must have been shoved up that Blond ass pretty deeply, because we're nearly a solid month apart and Sunshine can still *shine* brighter then all the lights on Liberty Avenue. Like he sucked the shit outta the Energizer Bunny. It's nice to see he can bounce back so easily from our... uh... well... *break-up* sounds too much like a relationship word.

Justin and I had... shared space. We co-existed. Even in the same bed. I kicked him out whenever he got pathetically spoiled, bratty or more like a sad Baby Drama Queen. Worse then I ever was. How could anyone stand me when I got that way? Oh, Lord! Get over yourself!

I don't think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill on this particular instance, though. I'm even more unwilling to take all the blame.

The issue is *old hat* between us, Michael and I. When we were younger, it was forefront on our minds, constantly. Jack Kinney was living, continually terrorizing me daily and Michael was aching for his dead, war-hero father.

At fourteen, we were young boys preparing to become the young men who would lead a path of glory into adulthood. But we both started out of the gate empty-handed. Jack was a fuckin' drunken nightmare and Michael's father was invisible, just a fading memory. All we seemed to have was each other and the few pop culture idols we could fantasize about. Michael held on to his "Gee, I wish you were my Daddy" illusions, while I would admire these older men for their stunning looks, possibly whacking off to them hours later, alone, away from Michael's inexperienced eyes.

Uncle Vic didn't become a strong confidant, in our upbringing, until he moved back to the Pitts from New York. With no constant steady for a *father figure*, Michael and I crudely cut-n-pasted our own fucked-up logic. Merely succeeding by making foolish mistakes, falling on our faces or asses, whichever one hit first. I know it sounds wrong, but I don't think we've caused too much damage, except to ourselves. Well... and to each other. I think I'm better at that then Michael. Still there are those times where he can deliver quite a blow that zings you directly in your gut.

Like Michael did six days ago...

Maybe it's my fault that I've played off the childish rhyme of "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". You know, sometimes those words can be followed by a pretty BIG rock.

My life with Jack was heated and dysfunctional. I honed the skill of turning off my sense of sound, while trying to ward off the uncalled for smacks and punishing blows sent down on me by an inebriated, ferocious father and a slightly soused, *Holier-Than-Thou* mother. I could pick-n-choose what I actually heard and latched onto.

Selective hearing is what they call it.  
 **  
**I HATE YOU!!**  
**I WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!!**  
**WE SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN "RID" OF YOU WHEN WE HAD THE CHANCE!!****

Those were my three favorites. I enjoyed the last one the most because it solidified in my mind that I WAS a mistake. I was never wanted. I was never loved. Even from birth. That's a hard pill to swallow for anyone. It also makes it easier to leave home, practically begging for a change.

  


~~~~~~~~~~LYRICS~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _These wounds won't seem to heal_**  
 ** _This pain is just too real_**  
 ** _There's just too much that time cannot erase_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That *change* came in the form of Michael Charles Novotny. The exchange of conversations with him was different. I never knew what was going to come out of his mouth. He had the power to make me laugh so hard I thought my insides would split apart. He could leave me breathless with wonder and awe at his quick thinking, quiet brilliance and his jumbled thoughts. He often left me a massive mess of emotional jelly when he showed his naivete in the world. The unconditional belief that ALL people were innately *good*, because that would lead into his eventual heartbreak. The letdown displayed on his childlike face would leave me to despise the cruelness underneath the pretend friendliness of some people.

In a very indirect way, Michael was able to reopen wounds that refused to heal. My old ghosts that were never laid to rest. I had pushed them farther back to forget and cope in my life. The inopportune moments of bursts of rage weren't only with Michael. Happened plenty of times with Justin. He never truly understood how my emotions and feelings were severely, completely bound to my past. And I never granted him access to that hideaway in my mind. Only few were allowed in.

Michael was my only salvation in smoothing out a bad situation I might get myself into. My harshest protector. My fiercest supporter. My anchor through a turbulent storm. My calm in a violent sea. A glorious rainbow after an unbridled thundershower.  


  


~~~~~~~~~~LYRICS~~~~~~~~~~

 ** _When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_**  
 ** _When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_**  
 ** _And I've held your hand through all of these years_**  
 ** _But you still have all of me_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This might sound weird, but Michael became me. In times of struggle and strife, I would run to him and he would simply... take me, no questions asked, listening with his wide open heart.

Whatever emotion I was feeling, Michael would gravitate toward. Anger; Michael would build his tight, little frame into a similar frenzy. Excitement; He'd be on pins-n-needles, anticipating the next words I said until I revealed everything to him. Laughter; He'd join in with a snort, advance to a chuckle, but then blend right into a full-on, tears-rolling, belly-holding giggle.

When I cried, he cried. My tears were his undoing. His expertise at laughter was nothing compared to the mastery of gut-wrenching sobs. I suppose it's that old comedy adage of "If I wasn't laughing, I'd be crying."

I never knew that blissful, content people had dark days, as well. Michael began to steadily share those moments with me. Instead of us being alone, bawling our self-pity, we had each other. That was our FIRST mistake. What had started out as innocent, friendly compassion turned into heavy, unhealthy obsession. To the point where NOBODY was good enough to help us, but ourselves.

We craved one another during our times of need.

Our shared experiences, late night chitchats and continual sleep overs were supposed to create a fabric to build upon should we ever drift apart.

I tried to move away. I went to college, rooming in the dorms. But that made the fabric grow stronger then my determination to live in solitude, doing whatever I pleased. Something was always calling me back home. Or should I say... someone?

All those years, months, days, nights, hours and minutes spent together... our beings had literally absorbed one another. Our souls intertwining and remaining as one. Both of us trying to break free of its strong hold on us.

I couldn't open my eyes to see without a flash of his image, his face... his smile. I couldn't think of one single thought without wondering if he'd think the same idea. I couldn't DO much and NOT think Michael was *perfect*, right by my side...

For Always...

  


~~~~~~~~~~LYRICS~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _You used to captivate me_**  
 ** _By your resonating light_**  
 ** _But now I'm bound by the life you left behind_**  
 ** _Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams_**  
 ** _Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Call me crazy. I used to fantasize about Michael and I. The infatuation with our warped relationship grew tormented and dangerous. I found out, first hand, what it was like to break a fragile heart. I never meant to be the cause of such pain and anguish. I didn't know where Michael ended and I began.

Never knowing about the *ideal* family life, I have managed to convince others around me, including Michael, that I am commitment phobic. Monogamy and marriage were not part of my general vocabulary. Well, I didn't *hate* the concepts, or ridicule the people who participated in them. I just knew when I wasn't fuckin' good at pulling them off confidently. And I'm not one to waste a bad talent. You know it's not worth doing, if it's not done well.

Hell, I wasn't even willing to work at it with the best of my ability. Most people weren't worth the trouble.

Now, Michael was the complete opposite. He was born to be the best and succeed. No where to go but up. He was meant for love, loving and long-lasting companionship. His dedication to having a pseudo-serious relationship was defining and courageous. Not that it HAD to lead to wedded bliss, but Michael was always built for that in his life. It was ingrained in his whole being. Prepared to be EVERYTHING to the one man he would give his heart.

Except we both managed to fuck that up, too. I've ruined him for any relationship following meeting ME. I know what I've done. I'm not proud or boastful about it. I can easily get perturbed at myself for those reasons alone. I know what I *shit* I am.

But recently, over these past few weeks of getting my life in some semblance of functionality, something has infiltrated my thoughts.

A fever. A virus. The flu. I don't know. There's *change* dwelling in the outskirts of my frame of reference and it isn't because of my relocation to this new place of residence. In fact it was a direct result to how I bought this townhouse.

It's got nothing to do with anyone, but the same old cast members this TV show has created.

The Brian and Mikey Show. Re-runs finished. Hiatus over with. New Season is in progress. We're just a little shaky on the dialog. It's all been said before, but there's *power* behind the words that never surfaced in the twenty years we've been together. Somehow everything seems so fresh and new. Old wounds still on the forefront, but willing to mend upon putting an end to whatever we've been trying to run away from.

No matter how far one runs; the nameless tricks I've fucked, the beautiful men Michael has allowed into his life and adored, our untapped potential still remains. Strong and unbreakable.

Two weeks, before six days ago in my Michael Fasting, I was given a photograph of the future.

Okay, I know that sounds stupid, but... bear with me. I was getting ahead of myself before. I don't mean to. I've probably rambled on forever, not making much sense, with no train of thought in sight.

See, this is what Michael has made me resort to. Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes... with no idea how this will end.

I'm scared. I'm bewildered. I'm hungry. I'm horny. I'm a sappy sentimental freak who's hibernating from the world in hopes of figuring out what he's done to his life and wondering if there's any fuckin' way he can repair the damage.

Most of all... I'm in love. I'm in love with my best friend.

And I'm in love with someone I've never even met before.

Well... before the two weeks before my six day Michael vigil...

 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

 ** Two Weeks Ago **

  
**It all began as innocently as all disasters do. Michael had asked to meet me at the Liberty Diner for lunch. I had spent the entire day shopping around for banks who would find it in their harsh creditor hearts to give me a small business loan. I had inspirations of starting my own business, from the ground up. Little had I realized what a can of worms THAT endeavor was becoming.**

 **So I walked into the Diner, as usual. I found our normal booth occupied. My head lifted about the place, spotting Michael at the end of the counter.**

 **Debbie was in mid-pinch of his ruddy, chubby cheeks and fawning over something in her grasp. Tears of pride glowed from her eyes. And I can't help but think I haven't seen her look this happy about something Michael has done in far too long.**

 **My interest is peeked, but I know when to butt out. So I pulled up a nearby stool at the dining counter, staring straight head, giving mother and son a moment alone.**

 **I looked up from taking off my coat to find Debbie running to the back, in the kitchen, to show off whatever Michael had given her. A sneaky smile crept out from my tight lips. My frustration over the banks, who have refused me, have exhausted me. My belly is ready for a nice juicy burger.**

 **Michael sidles up in the stool to my right, reaching into his inside jacket pocket.**

 **"I have one for you, too." Michael says as he shamelessly lays a plain white card on the counter top, using his index finger to slide it under my line of vision. "Lindsay thought this might be a good idea for the family to have."**

 **I have no idea if I expected anything more then a funny greeting card or what, but I didn't say much once I saw what was inside. I got awful quiet. For me, that can be a bad thing. A very bad thing.**

 **My eyes drifted down to see THE WORST out-of-focus picture. I couldn't even tell what I was looking at until Michael said four simple words that drove straight to my heart.**

 **He hung off my right shoulder, looking at the photograph along with me. He must have recognized my confusion as he placed his hand over mine, taking the initiative to point out what I was staring at.**

 **"That's my baby girl."**

 **Michael's finger went about to caress the edge of his daughter's shape in the picture. A sonogram. Melanie and Michael had requested. A picture of the baby inside of Mel's uterus.**

 **I never had this awkward moment with Gus. I tried to play off my parental role as just the handy sperm donor, so I hadn't been involved in much of Lindsay's pregnancy. I regret that now, because watching the awe on Michael's enchanting face is leaving me with a resounding ache inside.**

 **I cannot get back the past, I must move forward.**

 **Everything Michael did became profound. His touch so warm and inviting. His voice deep and resonating. His emotional attachment to this growing fetus prominent in his speech. He loved his non-existent child with such passion and verve, I was slightly envious.**

 **Okay, maybe a tad bit jealous, too. I knew THAT love and I would harm anyone who made fun of it.**

 **I saw her with Michael's eyes. The proud, boastful father who believes that his child can do no wrong. She was perfect in his eyes, even if she wasn't clearly visible in her first baby photograph.**

 **I choked. I was breathless. I was speechless. I wanted to drag Michael to me and sob, uncontrollably.**

 **Oh to be so lucky to have a father who loved you even before you were born. This was a new experience for me. I wanted to lose myself in his essence, but he drew back before I could retrieve what I had already lost. I thought he was going to get pissy, but he stayed, remained by my side, pulling closer to me.**

 **Michael wrapped his arms further about my shoulder. He had thought my silence was a sign of being uncomfortable. That I was somehow indifferent to the whole idea of his child, like I had first been with Gus' introduction to my wild lifestyle. Someone else to ignore and piss off.**

 **But his blatant enthusiasm drew me in, like a moth to a flame. I listened closely to his description of every tiny nuance of her fragile body in the womb. The pin-point finger tips. The shape of her spine. The crown of her head. The solid pea-size mass of her steadily beating heart in mid-thump. Michael made it seem like I was watching the actual sonogram and NOT simply staring at a black and white picture.**

 **He seemed to wait a bit, before speaking again, letting me absorb everything. I was floored. I could find no way to respond with my usual witty banter. I closed the card, but Michael's hand came out to snatch my wrist.**

 **"Did you read the inscription?"**

 ** _**What inscription?**_ , I wondered. "What are you talking about?"**

 **Michael let a sly, sneaky smile slip out the side of his mouth. "Read it, Brian." Debbie came over to pour Michael a fresh glass of lemonade. "Hey, thanks, Ma!"**

 **Reaching out to pat his flushed skin, Debbie managed to huff out. `No, thank YOU, Michael!" She put her hand down to touch the pocket HER card rested in her apron, before she turned away to pour me a cup of coffee. "Whatever you boys want, it's on the house. My treat!"**

 **I didn't reopen the card until I knew the coast was clear. Wandering eyes far enough away from me.  
**   


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
********************* **INSIDE CARD** *************************  
 ** _DEAREST DADDY UNCLE BRIAN,_**  
 ** _I think this side is my best! No, I'm kiddin'! My due date_**  
 ** _is drawing near. Can you believe it?! Two more weeks and I_**  
 ** _can finally meet you. I'm excited. How about you? Check me_**  
 ** _out! I've got ten fingers and ten toes! Isn't this the_**  
 ** _coolest?! This is your official invite to my very FIRST_**  
 ** _birthday party. I hope you'll be there. I can't wait to_**  
 ** _see you..._**  
 ** _I love you, Daddy Uncle._**  
*********************************************************  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **My heart plummeted to the filthy linoleum. I knew it wasn't really the *baby* talking, but whomever had written the words found a style of font that resembled a small child's. I had a strange inkling it was Michael's doing or Lindsay's, but I wasn't going to play favorites. Leaving it a mystery was fine by me.**

 **It was the sentiment that pummeled me. Ripped me straight to the core of my heart. I discovered that I could instantly fall in love with an invisible being who hadn't quite made an appearance on Earth, yet. It was the idea of her. Someone's imagination had created her personality already. That's what made me think it was more Michael's hand in this card then Lindsay's.**

 **"Well...?" Michael stretched out his voice to carry out the *act*. "What did she have to say?" Right then I knew I had been right. He had such a shit-eating grin on his face, I was forced to retaliate.**

 **The second Debbie came back to take our orders, I planted a big smooch on Michael's unsuspecting lips. Saying *thank you* to Michael simply would never be enough.**

 **You think that might have been too forward? Giving away too much of my feelings?  
**

 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

 ** Back To Present Day **

 

From that day on my life did a complete 360. My efforts toward rebuilding what was left of my life became focused on Michael and the little bundle of life evolving day by day. He'd insinuated his past dreams and fantasies into my head so eloquently that the things he wanted most were becoming a possible future I might sincerely desire.

Michael left me with thoughts of growing old, by his side, watching our children grow up together. I suddenly began to crave the strong stability of a family. Had I waited too long to make a heartfelt plea? Could I get on bended knee and pledge what Michael could do, if he'd felt the same way? Did Michel feel the same?

I used to think meaningless sex was something I wanted. Something I could handle, but at the end of the day, those ideals are empty and filled with nothing but more pain. Pain that you're unable to satiate because all you've managed to do is mask yourself behind a fake cover that you're unable to shake off. It's become your mode of conduct, what others expect of you and veering away from that action makes anything you do seem vapid and lame.

So I took the first step, of many other minuscule ones, I bought this place. Michael questioned me about the massive amount of space I suddenly seemed to need. The top floor was the master suite. The second floor had two bedrooms with a office or den that could be made into another bedroom. And the first floor held every marking of a *family dwelling*.

I'm not the type of man to come right out and say the exact words. I'm always hoping the person I'm with knows me well enough that it's simply unspeakable. He will know me, as I will know him.

And that can be only one person...

Fuck! Now, I wished I had said something. Or at least given Michael some shred of confidence to me consistently *being there* whenever he needed me. Instead, I'd listened to the voices around me, like I used to. No, not the ones in my head, beating my self-esteem into nothing.

These voices were authentic and solid. Heartfelt in every respect, except in my own feeble mind. It felt like the days back when Jack was alive. I'd get this fabulous idea in my mind. I'd become awakened by simple bliss, innocent and free. Then Jack would find some paltry way to shatter my enthusiasm, bringing me back down to Earth. To a freakish reality.

A week before my fight with Michael, I had two visitors. Don't ask me how they knew the other was coming, but they flowed in, one after the other.

First, it was Melanie. Never letting me down in thinking the worst of me. How my influence over Michael was powerful enough to make him cut himself off from her and their baby. She hadn't seen Michael in days. He always showed up for doctor's appointments and Lamaze classes at the Community Center. He'd backed out of both in the same week.

Then came my worst fri-enemy... Debbie Novotny.

All I was doing was waiting for the telephone company to hook up my lines. Melanie had spewed her venom on me before the phone guy ever showed up. I had to kick her out, even after she noticed the picture of the sonogram I had framed on the fireplace mantle. I had placed the card as it looked when opened, with the inscription able to be seen. It was almost like she'd realized her mistake.

She called me every fuckin' name in the book. Thinking I had some influence over Michael's disappearance from his baby's life. I had no idea what she was talkin' about. I had thought Michael was takin' care of his business like always. I had seen him off and on since he had given me the picture of the baby. I was too busy trying to reorganize my priorities. Maybe *build* my nest before I attempted to make an offer.

Then the phone guy came. I tried my best to use my cell phone to search for Michael, which came up useless. Neither Emmett, nor Ted, knew what was bothering Melanie. I chalked it up to hormonal imbalances.

As the phone guy was leaving, Debbie was waiting on my small porch, ready to press my doorbell. I had barely said goodbye to the poor guy before Debbie pushed her way through, stomping past us to head inside the townhouse.

This was my *other* reason for not stepping past the Liberty Diner's doorway. Well, at least until Debbie apologized.

I don't think I'm asking too much.  


 

 **==========tbc...==========**


	2. Chapter 2

**ONE WEEK AGO : DEBBIE ARRIVES**

**We started off on a really good foot. That's sarcasm, by the way.**

 **I was in the process of shutting the front door. "To what do I owe this..."**

 **I had never seen Debbie so angry. Boiling at the surface, clenched fists at her sides.**

 **I prayed that I wasn't at fault for this emotion coming over her. As usual, no one heard my softly mumbled pledge.**

 **"How... Dare you!" The rage she had against me was palpable.**

 **"Excuse me?" Twice in under one hour, I had been attacked at the jugular. Both women had been steaming for quite some time. My brow crinkled in confusion. I wished someone would tell me what was wrong.**

 **"And you DARE to call yourself my son's *best friend*!"**

 **Crossing my forearms over my chest, I paced across the hardwood flooring, advancing into the area where Debbie stood. Sparse furniture barely made it appear like the living room it was supposed to eventually become. Debbie couldn't contain her frustrations, volcanic energy mounting. I remained where I was standing. I wasn't even going to attempt to come any closer then I was.**

 **"And a *hello* to you, too, Debbie. Welcome to my new home..." Early on in our relationship, I had learned to perfect a skill with Debbie. If she came at me angry or upset, I'd play like I knew nothing of what she was talking about. She usually blew situations all out of proportion, making them seem more tragic then normal. So until I actually knew her complaint, I feigned innocence. This time, though, she was reacting a similar way to someone else. I had no idea to what either woman was referring to about Michael.**

 **My innocence was genuine.**

 **To my mind, it wasn't something specific, as much as it was the general consensus that I had fucked up Michael's life from the first day we met. I was a nasty, mean influence on Debbie's dark cherub. She'd never came out to say the words exactly, but I knew what she wanted to say...**

****************************************  
 **(What Brian THINKS Debbie wants to say)** *  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _**I wish Michael had never met you. I wish you weren't a part of_**  
 ** _our lives, our family. You don't belong here. You never did. We_**  
 ** _were better off without you. What will it take to make you..._**  
 ** _gone?**_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **But, see, Debbie had quick reflexes and a sharp wit. She knew how to hide the REAL words she couldn't wait to scream at me. Debbie never intentionally wanted to hurt my feelings, but, sometimes, those we love, deepest, hurt us the most. She was good at that. Debbie could *play* Michael like a well-practiced violin.**

 **Debbie was finding it too difficult to figure me out. I knew her game all too well.**

 **"Cut the crap, Brian!"**

 **I wiped a tired hand over my face. "Christ! Not YOU, too?!" I wanted to tease her about warning me when my NEXT visitor would show up.**

 **The paleness that took over her face made my grin shrink away. "What are you talkin' about?!"**

 **"You missed Lindsay's wife. The Mother-To-Be."**

 **"Melanie?!" Debbie screeched out in surprise.**

 **"Uh, do you know another butch lesbian carrying Michael's child?" I wandered over to the fireplace, looking out at the view from the three-paneled, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked The Pitts. "So? What's YOUR beef with me?" I tried to steel myself to be prepared for anything. I should have known better.**

 **Debbie appeared to deflate in her anger, slightly. "Michael."**

 **"Hmm... quirky." I bit the inside of my cheek in befuddlement. I had to figure this trouble out on my own. "Mel had the same problem."**

 **"What did she say? What did she tell you?"**

 **"Not much." I moved to lean back along the edge of the window frame. My hands went around to my back to grip the sheer curtains. I needed something strong to hold onto. "I let her rant. Seemed like she'd been bottling up whatever was inside. She called me a few choice words, but she never told me EXACTLY why she was here." I shrugged, noticing that Debbie was staring down at the tips of her sneakers. I realized she had thrown her jacket over her Liberty Diner uniform. Man, must have been some discussion about me before all this happened. "I suppose, when it's all said and done, it didn't really matter. If it has to do with Michael, with a smidgen of change in character, I am obviously the *guilty* party."**

 **A sad smirk slipped out from the side of her mouth. Her fists went into her coat pockets. "When have you NOT been involved?"**

 **Oh, geez, I could think of a few. David and the move to Portland. Ben and his steroid abuse. I rubbed at the base of my nose. I really didn't want to think about this stuff right now. "Nice one, Deb." I pushed off from the window frame. "I hate to be rude. May I offer you a drink? Are you thirsty? Hungry?" I really had no idea what I had in the cupboards and refrigerator.**

 **"No. That's okay. I gotta get back to the Diner. I'm pulling an extra shift in an hour."**

 **"I'm honored that you would leave work for little ole me."**

 **Shaking her head slowly, Debbie bit her lip. "Not you, kiddo. This is more a plea for my granddaughter." She moved to lean on the other end of the window frame. We shared a moment of an intent gaze. Tears surfaced in her eyes. I knew I was in for something very scarey. "I love you, Brian. I will always care about you, your welfare. I want to see you happy one day."**

 **"Why does that NOT sound like a good thing?" I let out an uncomfortable snicker. I had to look away, not at her face. Not while she was slowly breaking my already brittle heart.**

 **"I want you to step back. I need you to walk away from Michael, Brian."**

 **It was a desperate plea. Man, I must have really done some number on him. I wasn't prepared for this at all.**

 **"May I ask why?" I quickly glanced over as she covered her shaking lips with her equally nervous hand. I nodded my head, in understanding. I stared at the floor. "For how long?"**

 **Debbie had to turn away. I knew this had to be very hard for her. Debbie was a mean person. She simply loved intensely. This time she was choosing her own son over me. I had to be okay with that decision. It didn't stop the ache, though.**

 **"I was afraid you'd ask that. I guess, for however long we need to repair what's damaged." Debbie tried to secretly wipe under her eyes, with her coat sleeves.**

 **Finally, the truth was out.**

 **I shut my eyes. Could things possibly get any worse? The lump lodged in my throat was about to choke me. "Have I really been that terrible to deal with? I'm no tyrant. I can change... if you'll let me."**

 **Debbie sighed heavily, glancing up at the high loft ceiling. This had been her breaking point. She was tired, throwing in the towel. Anything I attempted to do to make amends would fall unnoticed. I had waited too long to make some effort to change.**

 **"Brian..." Debbie walked over to the fireplace mantle, unsure of where to stand. The closer she was, to me, the harder it became for her to speak. "Michael doesn't need you anymore. Can't you see that Ben is the *one*? The one person who can give him the things you can't... or won't. Distancing yourself will give them the much needed space to work on their relationship. Building something real and stable for the baby. I know you've felt Michael growing further away from you. Being a father will bring him to another level. He'll have responsibilities in this new life that won't include you. Isn't it better to exit now, then to feel left out in the future? Before you grow to care too much? Allow him to move on. Be the best Father he was born to be."**

 **Hell, I wasn't going to prove Debbie false, but hearing those words out loud struck a final blow. I was only going to try to beg forgiveness once, then no more.**

 **Hurt me once, shame on you; Hurt me twice, shame on me.**

 **"My influence isn't THAT strong, Deb."**

 **"Oh, kid, it's freakin' deeper then anything in Michael's life that you know of. You're only too blind to see that you should let go. You're suffocating him into believing he's not worth a hill o'beans."**

 **I thought that was a bit melodramatic.**

 **"What if... I don't want to let him go?"**

 **"Then, all I can say, is prepare to be alienated and ostracized. I can no longer sit and watch you destroy Michael's life. But I'm damned if you're stepping FOOT in my grandchild's life! She needs her father. Michael deserves to be a participating part of her life. Just because you thought how good an idea it was for you to disappear from Gus' life, doesn't mean it's what Michael should do." Debbie was getting close enough to point her index finger directly at my chest. "I will beat down anybody who gets in the way of THAT love... even if it is you, sweetheart!"**

 **I dodged her hand, stepping backward an inch or two. I knew this day would eventually arrive. I had thought I'd be able to handle myself, but I guess I was wrong. Wrong about so many things.**

 **"I need you to leave."**

 **"Brian... I..." Debbie was about to make some kind of random statement of how she felt about me, when I noticed her gaze penetrate the lone picture frame on the mantle. "Where did you get that?" Her finger jabbed at the display of words and sentiment.**

 **"What?" I turned my head to see her try to read the inscription. "Oh, that! Michael gave it to me. A week ago., but..." I was feeling weak and heady as I picked up the frame. I wrinkled up my face, like I was smelling a bad stench. "... you're right. This means absolutely NOTHING to me!"**

 **It took every bit of frustration in me to throw the picture into the fireplace. The glass shattered all over the brick lined space. Debbie shot back in fear. "Brian, what did you...?"**

 **I put my head in my hands, covering my eyes. I couldn't bear for her to know there were tears falling down my cheeks. "Please don't make me HAVE to throw you out."**

 **My words were sharp and succinct. I heard Debbie try to inhale a shaky breath..**

 **"I'm sorry, kiddo. I tried..." Debbie's sobbing made me feel even worse.**

 **Yeah, but not as sorry as I felt.**

 **Fine, if she wasn't leaving the room, I would.**

 **"Excuse me. You know the way back to the front door. See yourself out."**

 **I ran all the way upstairs to the master bedroom suite. I was going to wait out her leaving in solitude.**

 **I shuffled over to look out through the big picture window, overlooking my front yard. The dry sobs hit my belly first as I placed a palm to the glass surface. My forehead clanked against the double panned window as I watched Debbie slowly walk to her car.**

 **My vision was awash in a salty bath of sorrow.**

 **"Bye... Mom..." The shallow sound of my voice cracked at the tension.**

 **Would this ache ever go away?**

  
 **DEBBIE LEAVES** \- **END OF ONE WEEK AGO**

 **  
**

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**   


~~~~~~~~~~LYRICS~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _These wounds won't seem to heal,_**  
 ** _This pain is just too real,_**  
 ** _There's just too much that time cannot erase_**

 ** _When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears,_**  
 ** _When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears,_**  
 ** _And I've held your hand for all of these years,_**  
 ** _But you still have all of me_**

 ** _I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone,_**  
 ** _And though you're still with me,_**  
 ** _I've been alone all along_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **A FEW DAYS AFTER** \- **MICHAEL ARRIVES**

 **I took a shower in my new bathroom. I could guarantee feeling better after a good, warm shower, except the day I saw Debbie. I couldn't wash myself clean enough. I couldn't erase all that I had done by my instant baptism. I couldn't find solace in pain.**

 **Three days later, I got a call from Michael. He was gonna take a few hours off of work to come help me meet the moving van. He wanted to help unpack some of my boxes and arrange the furniture the way I want it to look. I can also sense he had something to talk to me about. What, I don't know, but I think I had a good idea.**

 **But I was gonna beat him at his own game. My only thought was that Debbie *got* to him and he was gonna ask to see less of me. He'll want to devote his time to Ben and the new baby. I didn't know if I could take TWO Novotnys shutting me down in one week. If Michael ended up doing what I thought he would, then I was going to push him away first, hoping to make the transition into leaving much easier.**

 **Before Michael arrived, I knew what I had to do.**

 **I was born to be alone. I couldn't love anyone without causing them hurt. I didn't deserve him. Michael was born to be part of a strong, loving relationship. Michael's love was pure and true. He didn't deserve all the shit I had put him through. We would have never been *right* for each other.**

 **I had to let him go. I would never forget him. Even though we wouldn't BE together, I would always *be there* should he need me. I wanted to make certain he knew that. I wasn't going to cut my ties, completely. I simply needed to move on in my own life.**

 **All my thoughts concerning a future with Michael vanished the second I saw his face.**

 **I had worked myself up to a nice jumble of thoughts in emotions when Michael showed up with every kind of takeout food, a movie or two and his solemn attitude. We spent the first two hours unloading all the boxes, the few pieces of furniture I kept and my bundles of designer clothing.**

 **We didn't get a chance to do much talking. We mostly worked to empty the moving van and send the workers on their way. We could handle what was left inside the house.**

 **I was coming down the stairs, intent on sitting Michael down over the food, when he walked through the front door. Carrying an oversized box in his arms.**

 **"I think this is it, Brian. Where do you want THIS?"**

 ***This* was a box of business files for my office. "Second floor. First door on your left. There are some other boxes with papers grouped for the file cabinets."**

 **Michael set the awkward box down on the surface of the oblong table, where the dining room was going to end up. "So... what do you think I should do?"**

 **I was bewildered. "About what?"**

 **"What I asked you, over fifteen minutes ago. I was talking right at you, while you unpacked that trunk in the living room. I thought you needed to think it over. I was giving you time, until the movers left." Michael held open his arms asking what else I expected him to do.**

 **This was ONE of the reasons he came over to help me. To figure out his own problems, but I was in another world, thinking about my own troubles. That trunk had been full of stupid keepsakes I'd discovered I'd hid in the basement storage at my old loft. Things from my past with Michael. Old t-shirts, random comics and magazines, school papers, ratty photographs. Mementoes of a youth I could never recapture. A friendship I had to shut the door on, ending a once-believed unbreakable bond.**

 **"I guess I wasn't paying attention." I shrugged my nonchalance at his disbelief.  
   
"What?" Michael sounded so dejected and lost. "You were looking RIGHT at me." His voice cracked in frustration.**

 **"Michael, I've got other things on my mind then your problems. I can barely get through my own." I sounded a bit harsh to my own ears.**

 **"I'm sorry I've been such a bother to you." Michael huffed out about ready to turn and leave.**

 **I grabbed for his arm. "Hey, stop! Come on! Tell me again. I promise to listen this time. What was it about?"**

 **Michael yanked himself out of my grip. "Ben... what's been happening to US... and OUR possible future together."**

 **I hated this statement the minute Ben's name was mentioned. The constant strain of having to watch Perfect Ben get everything I wanted was something I couldn't bear to deal with, rationally. I went ballistic. The stress on *us* and *our* was draining the energy right out of me. Michael wanted me to give him *boyfriend* advice... NOW!!??**

 **"Christ! What makes you think I'd even have an ounce of interest for that bullshit!!?? I don't want to be a part of this charade! Tell Benji to either shit or get off the pot, already! You both *love* each other, why not put an end to the misery? You two deserve one another." The box I was digging through had some tools I'd stash away in a random catch-all drawer. I walked into the pristine white space, while Michael followed me.**

 **The look on Michael's face told me I had said something wrong. I wondered which part it was.**

 **"Is that how you REALLY feel?" His voice sounded far away and weak.**

 **What did he mean? About Ben? Or Ben and him? Or simply... him?**

 **I leaned back, my ego inflating more and more. I was reverting back to my old habits of not caring one iota for how people felt. This time I was immune to Michael's crumbling state. "Why do you even care how I feel about it, at all, Mikey?"**

 **Like sledgehammer over his head, it suddenly dawned on Michael how foolish he was being. "You know... you are so fuckin' right!! How the hell would YOU know anything about being a *father* when you consider your childhood and how you've neglected your own son. You do recall that you have one, right?" He stormed away, out into what was going to be my living room, near the windows and fireplace. He was moving to pick up his jacket, laying over a pile of boxes.**

 **Okay... THAT was a low blow! And why was Michael coming out of left field with how *I* wasn't great *Daddy* material? What did that have to do with Ben and their relationship?**

 **"What the fuck does that mean?" I followed him back out, watching as he slipped his arms in his jacket sleeves.**

 **"I think you're brilliant enough to figure it out on your own. After all, you did graduate college with a degree, while I dropped out. I'm only the stupid fool you've been making fun of for years."**

 **"Where the HELL did you get THAT idea from? So I don't want to get involved in you and Ben having a lover's spat. Fuckin' get a grip on yourself! God Damn!" I came out with my hands on my hips. "If you feel that way about me... what the fuck are you doing here?" This was my chance. Shit! I was a certifiable asshole, a major bastard. "Why aren't you *gone* already?" I barked down at him. My breath blew in tufts on his face. He had to blink and step back.**

 **I had to stand and watch myself slowly break Michael's heart. Now, it HAD gotten much worse, then I could ever imagine.**

 **"I'm way ahead of you on that one, Kinney!"**

 **I wanted to hug him close when he dipped his head, holding back the tears. His face grew flushed as he diverted his gaze about the room. He sniffed once, picking sight of something in the distance. His eyes zeroed in on the familiar picture.**

 **"Brian... what happened to the picture?"**

 **I had forgotten to remove the broken picture frame with Michael's daughter's sonogram inside.**

 **SHIT! FUCK!!**

 **"What pic-?" I turned my head to see what Michael was looking at, with wide eyes of deep agony. "Michael, I..." How could I explain, simply, what had happened? Debbie was getting EXACTLY what she wanted. I could see Michael's eyes begin to look at me with utter disgust. "It fell."**

 **"Yeah... with some help." Sighing heavily, Michael found that he had to walk all the way around the room to get as far away from me as he could. "I suppose this means you've finally won."**

 **"*Won* what?"**

 **"That Jack was right all along."**

 **I swallowed, closing my eyes, knowing the next words would pierce right to my soul. "Oh, yeah?"**

 **"I'm wishing you had never been born, too." Michael hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back and allowing me to see the intense amount of tears on his face. "I hate you for making me say that, Brian. I fuckin' hate you more then I ever thought possible."**

 **Yeah, I hated myself for making Michael become this mean and hateful. It wasn't in his nature. It was taking every piece of him to say these words and NOT get emotional over them.**

 **"Get out." I said as softly as my nerves would allow.**

 **"My pleasure." Michael choked out, trying to comprehend how this situation could have turned out so bad.**

 **An End to Our Friendship?**

 **Michael had trouble getting his feet to move toward the door. I nearly ran into his arms, begging his forgiveness. That I didn't mean anything I had just said. I covered my lips, pinching them together, my wide eyes were watchful of his every move away from me. The front door was opened partly before Michael paused, came back to lay the spare keys I'd made for him on the table. He thought for a second, then came sprinting back to me, jumping into my arms and collapsing within my grasp.**

 **Dear God! None of Jack's abuse had hurt worse then this moment. I blurted out a sob.**

 **"Oh!... Mikey!" I wanted to drown myself in his embrace. Even after all our heated words, he still had a strong pull toward me. I vowed to love him until my dying day. It was better for me to let him go. Debbie had been right. I knew the second Michael was out of my sight, it would take me a long time before I even tried to love another man as much as I did him.**

 **What would I do without him in my life?**

 **Michael planted a forceful, lingering kiss on me, unexpectedly. He was gone the minute I reopened my eyes, moisture caked on my face. I fell to my knees, dry heaving against the intense stomach pains.**

 **Christ Almighty! I wanted to die...**

 **I wanted to be *dead* right then and there!**

 **  
**

**MICHAEL LEAVES** \- **BRIAN's "Michael" VIGIL BEGINS**  


 **  
**

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

**Back To Present**

  


But God has a funny way of listening and ignoring your ignorant requests. He wants you to feel the agony and the ecstasy in order to enjoy the journey. After all, this was a man who had been crucified, and persecuted, by his own friends and family in front of an enraptured audience. I suppose I could last a few more days, but...

Six days, nearly six nights, later.... and I was STILL among the Living.

 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

**  
**

**MICHAEL... Novotny House - Old Bedroom...**

  
Ain't it funny how the world works?

Tragedy strikes someone. That *someone* feels about as dumbstruck as ever, trying to cope by any means necessary. Always seems like several days later, a friend, or family member, of that *someone*, is bound to grow tired of the moping and attempt to jumpstart them with a swift kick in the ass. Literally being dragged from their warm bed, tucked safely under the comforter.

That *someone that tragedy struck* is pretty sure they've forgotten how to have an emotion, because they've had to numb themselves so the pain and heartache would dissipate. After plenty of hours of grumbling and childish temper tantrums, the minute that *someone* steps outside, their disillusionment takes a severe shot upward.

 **_**What? You mean the world went on functioning without me?**_ **

How cruel can that be? Like reality slapping one across the face to get over this inflated ego.

Who were YOU, anyway, in the scheme of it all to make the world NOT keep on going, even if YOU could not? One would say that there were things that still needed to be done, while you were sitting on your lazy ass, crying and feeling sorry for yourself. No one was going to wait for however long it took you to make your inevitable comeback. Through all that poetical, lyrical remorse, the sun still came out in the morning and the other human beings had lives to live.

You became the Walking Dead among the Living.

Dead inside, but still managing to handle a daily regime of a never-ending routine.

Six days... no one had come to check on Michael in six days, going on six nights.

Well, that wasn't REALLY true. It was more like, no one attempted to *approach* him in six days. Michael could still function in his life, just not very well. He ate, slept, shit, shaved and showered like any normal person. Those who knew him better then most could see that Michael had lost what would constitute as his *Inner Light*.

Work brought him a watered-down version of joy. Comics reminded him too much of Brian and the unhealthy obsessions they shared. He tried to read some, but the stories became foolish and stupid, lame and pathetic. Like Michael felt right now. RAGE was in a holding pattern, since Justin had hit the single scene a few weeks back. Michael had even considered putting Red Cape Comics back on the market.

Only hours after leaving Brian, Michael managed to make a solid decision. He should get far away from all things connected to the Pitts and the past. That meant his Ma, Uncle Vic, Ben, Emmett, Ted, Melanie and Lindsay. There were too many memories ingrained in his mind. Too many prospects he had planned on for the future. A future he had very much desired living by the side of his one true love... and best friend...

Brian Kinney was Michael's biggest problem, in more ways then one.

 **  
**

**==========tbc...==========**


	3. Chapter 3

Michael's unadulterated compulsion and his most treasured infatuation.

None of that matter, though, until Michael could arrange all of his priorities. Somehow he didn't feel complete without making damn sure he knew his *place* in Brian's life.

Now that he knew, Michael could move on. He simply needed a few days to regroup and think his life through. Those *few* days had increased into nearly a week. Worse, yet, Michael still hadn't the faintest idea of where to go.

Everything familiar seemed different and stale. The people he encountered didn't even thrill him much, anymore.

Only a few knew what had happened and they refused to talk. Neither were the *victims* involved in this ridiculous drive-by abandonment of a long-standing friendship.

Laying on his back, in the center of his bed, Michael was splayed over the tiny mattress. His hands were nicely folded on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

He slowly swiveled his head to look at the red digital clock on his bedside table. He rolled his wrist to display the illuminated watch face, telling of the same time.

Wow! He'd come back from the comic store only a few hours ago...

Another hour and Debbie Novotny's famous *Pasta Night* would be in full swing. Another hour and Michael would remove his limp body from his childhood twin bed, stereo headphones in place, and lock his door. His only barrier against the crappy world in his paltry existence

He wanted no part of dinner. He planned on slipping downstairs, after midnight, to scrounge around for the leftovers. He wanted no part of what amounted to his so-called family and friends sharing their forced smiles and pats on the back. He didn't want to hear them say "You'll get over it... one day." or a possible "I told you that Kinney kid was nothin' but heartache." from his Ma.

His one constant was gone. Vanished from his life like a flickering flame. Michael felt about as irritable as a young child going through the Terrible Two stage.

He didn't need reminders of what he'd lost shoved down his throat. He didn't want to hear that this... dissolve of his connection to Brian was *... for the best*. Like it was written in the stars that Brian would remain, and always be, useless in Michael's life.

Tears choked him as he moved his head to gaze out his window, through the thin film of curtain. There was a small patch of stars Michael had claimed as *his* as a young child. The ones he wished upon to bring him a loving father who never went away. The ones he wished upon for Brian, to make him find an ounce of happiness despite the destruction that followed him as he got older. That Brian would know what real love felt like. It didn't have to be sexual love that began as lust. It only had to be effective enough to leave Brian breathless with wonder at being handed such a *gift*. And Michael wished on the falling stars to BE the ONE Brian couldn't survive without.

He shut his eyes to the anguish overcoming him. He held on tighter to the pictures he'd clutched to his chest. The old photograph of Brian and him that used to be tacked on his pegboard. Tattered and worn; mini-holes from the wall tacks littered the top edge and told of the continual taking down/putting up of this simple image. The second one was of his daughter. The dreaded sonogram of his seven-and-a-half month old child, inside of Melanie's uterus. The living, breathing tissue of his own creation, with a bit of Melanie's help.

It seemed unreal. To be a *father* to a small person who wasn't here yet. The awesome responsibility it gave him. The overflowing love he felt. She was perfect, in every little way. Even in fuzzy black-n-white.

Right now, this very minute, SHE was the only thing keeping him sane... and alive.

Maybe Brian always had known the correct thing to do. Distance. Slowly drift away. Forget consequences. Forget feelings. Forget living. Just take the bullshit everyone gives you and make yourself invincible. Test the waters of risk by extreme adventures. Do the heavy drugs, fuck the random guys and lose your identity in the woodwork. No one cares, anyway, right?

 ***It's MY life. I will do what I want.***

And if I should die, don't forget to bury me on my stomach so everyone can kiss my ass!

Michael lost himself in a string of chuckles. Strange to be laughing during this potent grieving process. That *diddy* had been uttered by Brian more then once. As morbid as it sounded, Michael always found it fairly truth telling to Brian's interest in how other people perceived him. He didn't care, so why should anyone else?

When had Brian begun to care? When had his Bad Boy disappeared? When had Brian ever listened to what another person said about their relationship? About anything to deal with them?

Someone had talked to Brian. Michael was sure of it. He had a pretty good idea of one person, but was willing to give them the benefit of doubt.

The cassette tape he was listening to in his small portable stereo clicked *OFF*. He got up, bouncing down to the end of his bed to reach over to flip the tape to the *B* Side. Hitting *PLAY*, Michael crawled over his mattress, on his stomach, toward the headboard. He wearily flopped down on the pillows, trying to cuddle them as close to his body as he could to camouflage what he really wanted to cling to. Or should he say *Who*, instead of *What*?

As the tape began, Michael shut his eyes, expecting to hear more of a collection of music he'd recorded years ago. What came out of his earphones was microphone feedback...

 **ON TAPE** \- **BRIAN & MICHAEL'S VOICES**

(BRIAN- Tapping on a micorphone)  
 _ **"Testing, Testing... 1, 2, 3... Testing."**_

(MICHAEL-Mouth right against his microphone)  
 ** _"Can you hear me?"_**

 ** _"Mikey! Shit! Turn your mic down! I think you just fuckin' blew my ear drum out."_**

 ** _"Oh Shit! Sorry! I'm sorry... How do I...?"_**

(Sounds of switches being flicked and buttons being pressed)

(Screeching feedback returned)

 ** _"FUCK! Just turn it off! Come over here, Mikey. It's not like we're Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora. Christ! I think I can share a mic with you. You didn't forget to brush your teeth this morning, honey, did you?"_**

 ** _"Man! That was pretty cool, Brian. You actually sounded like Ma there."_**

 ** _"Yeah, comes in handy when I need to get you out of school. Don't tell her, though. I'm afraid she already wants to rip me a new one... for being such a *bad seed* to her baby boy."_**

(There is a faint *strum* of guitar strings)

(MICHAEL- His voices whines, far away; The sound of him carrying his own guitar up to Brian's mic can be heard)  
 ** _"I'm NOT a baby!"_**

 ** _"NICE ATTITUDE!"_**

(BRIAN-Plays a few chords he learned over the summer)

(MICHAEL-His voice level is closer to Brian's)  
 ** _"BITE ME, KINNEY!"_**

 ** _"Look... are we gonna do this or what?"_**

 ** _"I suppose we better. Or Ma would have wasted sixty bucks for nothing..."_**

 **AUDIO TAPE IS STOPPED**

Michael dropped everything in his hands to run back to the stereo. What in the world?

Shit! How could he have forgotten??!!

He quickly pressed *STOP* in order to *REWIND* back to the beginning. He tried to go back, in his memory, to when they had recorded the tape. From what Michael could remember, they were trying to *practice* a song for some talent show at school. Most of what they wanted to play hadn't been widely accepted as mainstream music by their classmates standards.

One band in particular had a major album hit the Top 40 charts with a bang, making the underground come out of the dark. The Cure's Disintegration and the indelibly talented Robert Smith with his lyrical storytelling and sorrowful words of angst and heartache.

Michael stood still in his childhood bedroom as he carefully pressed the *PLAY* button.

  


**AUDIO PLAY IS PRESSED**

**_"...we better. Or Ma would have wasted sixty bucks for nothing. This recording stuff wasn't cheap. I think the music shop rents it out to a local DJ. He's out on Liberty Avenue. A dance club called *BABYLON*, I think?"_ **

**_"Hmmm... Babylon? Sounds kinky... and a little bit raunchy.... and naughty..."_ **

(MICHAEL-Fell in a fit of giggles)  
 ** _"Stop it, Brian! Stop! I'm serious. I had too much soda at the movies. You're gonna make me hafta pee!"_**

(BRIAN-Sounds of his exaggerated smooching continued to echo through the mic)  
 ** _"Lord! You're adorable when I tickle you. I can't seem to stop myself... Mikey! I can't stop! Something has possessed my hand... my poor fingers! MIKEY! HELP!"_**

(BRIAN-Sounds of his distress make Michael laugh until tears are falling)

(MICHAEL-Sounds of being tortured by the dreaded TickleMonster, Brian)

(Two loud thumps sound as their guitars hit the floor)

(BRIAN-Sounds of trying to *shush* Michael)  
 ** _"If you're quiet and good... maybe she'll go away."_**

 **_"Brian... you're on top... of me... I can't..."_ **

(MICHAEL- Sounds of his struggle for breath)

 **_"Shh-shhh... I think I hear her foot steps..."_ **

(A knock sounds on the door; A doorknob being tested)

(DEBBIE-Bellows through the door)  
 ** _"Michael? What's going on in there? You haven't broken anything that Ramon lent you?"_**

(BRIAN & MICHAEL- Both say together)  
 ** _"RAMON?"_**

(They can't help but stifle giggles at the idea of *Ramon* as Debbie's boyfriend)

 **_"No wonder we got the equipment so cheap!"_ **

**_"Brian! Shut up!"_ **

(DEBBIE-Sounds of her jiggling the door more)  
 ** _"Michael? Brian? What's going on in there?"_**

 **_"Nothin', Deb! I just have your son pinned to the bed and having my wild ways with him! Come back later... `Kay?!"_ **

(MICHAEL-Sounds of him trying to cover Brian's mouth and getting bit)  
 ** _"Ouch! Ma, don't list-..."_**

(BRIAN-Sounds of Michael's own mouth being covered)  
 ** _"I love you, Mommie! Brian and I are hunky-dorey!"_**  
(BRIAN-Imitating Michael's voice at a *higher* pubescent level)  
 ** _"I dare you to."_**  
(BRIAN-His deep, whispered tone forced Michael to take the dare)  
 ** _"Ouch!... Oof!"_**

(There were sounds of Brian & Michael trying to arrange themselves, innocently on the mattress, plenty of feet apart)

 **_"I'm fine, Ma! Do you need me for any-...?!"_ **

**_"I was gonna make my bow-tie noodles with Marinara sauce. Whenever you two are done... *foolin' around*... whatever! Come on down and help me make a salad."_ **

**_"Okay, Ma. Give us a few minutes. We'll be down."_ **

(MICHAEL-Spoke through his door as loudly as possible)

(They waited for the retreating footsteps)

 **_"Christ! Brian. I wish you wouldn't do that!"_ **

**_"Mikey..."_ **

**_"What?"_ **

**_"When we're downstairs, eating supper... can you *toss MY salad*... in front of your mom... for me?... please?"_ **

(MICHAEL-His anger was vanishing into chuckles)  
 ** _"Shut up!"_**

 **_"Ow-cha! THAT was my nipple, Mikey."_ **

**_"Thank the Lord it was JUST your nipple."_ **

**_"Mikey? Well, they say it's always the *quiet ones*."_ **

(MICHAEL-Sounds a heavy sigh)  
 ** _"Are we gonna do this or not?"_**

 **_"Not!"_ **

**_"Brian!"_ **

**_"Sorry... I'm just yanking your chain. We Are Doing! What have you got?"_ **

(Shuffling of paper [sheet music])

 **_"Three songs of The Cure's. Two from Disintegration, but one is from... uh, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me."_ **

**_"Don't mind if I do!"_ **

(There was s sharp intake of breath as lips smacked together)

 **_"Brian, that's the name of the album. It wasn't a request."_ **

**_"I know. I just felt like... I don't know... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you lose your train of thought."_ **

**_"It's okay. It was a nice way to *derail* me."_ **

**_"God... Mikey, that almost sounds... dirty... a bit masochistic!"_ **

**_"Well... here is the sheet music. Can you read them? I had a little problem with this one, but I think we can fake it. Especially if we make it either punk-ass, rock-n-roll style or even try it acoustically."_ **

(MICHAEL-Sounds of handing over the sheet music)

(BRIAN-He reads them off, one by one, like turning pages of a book)  
 ** _"Just Like Heaven... Lovesong...and Pictures of You..."_**

(There was a long pause of silence)

 **_"You don't look pleased. You hate them. Shit!"_ **

**_"Mikey, I'm only worried about how fucked-up they'll sound when WE play them. Or attempt to imitate them. I hate to say this, bursting your *bubble*, but there's only ONE Robert Smith... and I ain't it!"_ **

**_"But Brian... you're good at this shit, better then I am. I just follow you blindly, making it look like I know what I'm doing. You actually can LEARN how to play, I'm just a mere copy."_ **

**_"You're not a *mere* anything, Mikey. You're my best friend."_ **

(There were sounds of the mattress squeaking, like someone was moving)

 **_"And you're MY best friend... and my very own pseudo-Robert Smith. Do you wanna make yourself up to look like him at the talent show? I'm sure we can tease this... mop of brown hair into some freakish replica."_ **

**_"Mmm... Mikey..."_ **

**_"Yeah..."_ **

**_"I hate to put an end to this swell head massage, but I hear Debbie howling."_ **

(There was a very faint call from downstairs-behind the closed, locked bedroom door)

 **_"Comin' Ma!"_ **

(MICHAEL-Sounds of the bed moving)  
 ** _"Just test out the music first. We don't HAVE to do any of them. They're only some of my favorites. I'll do whatever you want."_**  
(MICHAEL-Sounds of him opening his bedroom door)  
 ** _"Do you want me to close this again?"_**

 **_"No. You can crack it a bit."_ **

**_"I'll be back as quick as possible. Who the hell knows what Ma needs me for."_ **

(There was a long pause.... a heavy sigh... some ruffling of papers...)

Michael waited in awe. He had always believed they had taped over this. They had decided on a version of Just Like Heaven, which brought them second place in the talent show. But he couldn't help but think the tape was still running. Brian had never turned off the *Record* button.

What exactly was he in for? Brian had made an amazing *Robert Smith* on stage.

He slinked back letting his legs hit the edge of the bed. He sat down slowly, listening in on a young Brian practicing ALL the choices Michael had given him, with only the acoustic guitar to use.

  


(BRIAN- Clearing his voice)  
 ** _"Shit!"_**

(BRIAN-Sounds of him picking *chords* out, from the sheet music)

(Brian nearly spent twenty minutes fitting each intricate melody together until he came out with the finished product)

(Brian practiced his vocal tones along with some of the chords)

(Once he was prepared he inhaled deeply, clearing his throat again)  
 ** _"For Michael... My Mikey."_**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Pictures of You****  
 _**Words/Music By Robert Smith**_  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _I've been looking so long at these pictures of you_**  
 ** _That I almost believe that they're real_**  
 ** _I've been living so long with my pictures of you_**  
 ** _That I almost believe that the pictures are_**  
 ** _All I can feel_**

 ** _Remembering You_**  
 ** _Standing quiet in the rain_**  
 ** _As I ran to your heart to be near_**  
 ** _And we kissed as the sky fell in_**  
 ** _Holding you close_**  
 ** _How I always held close in your fear_**  
 ** _Remembering You_**  
 ** _Running soft through the night_**  
 ** _You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow_**  
 ** _And screamed at the make-believe_**  
 ** _Screamed at the sky_**  
 ** _And you finally found all your courage_**  
 ** _To let it all go_**

 ** _Remembering You_**  
 ** _Fallen into my arms_**  
 ** _Crying for the death of your heart_**  
 ** _You were stone white_**  
 ** _So delicate_**  
 ** _Lost in the cold_**  
 ** _You were always so lost in the dark_**  
 ** _Remembering You_**  
 ** _How you used to be_**  
 ** _Slow drowned_**  
 ** _You were angels_**  
 ** _So much more than everything_**  
 ** _Hold for the last time then slip away quietly_**  
 ** _Open my eyes_**  
 ** _But I never see anything_**

 ** _If only I'd thought of the right words_**  
 ** _I could have held on to your heart_**  
 ** _If only I'd thought of the right words_**  
 ** _I wouldn't be breaking apart_**  
 ** _All my pictures of you_**

 ** _Looking so long at these pictures of you_**  
 ** _But I never hold on to your heart_**  
 ** _Looking so long for the words to be true_**  
 ** _But always just breaking apart_**  
 ** _My pictures of you_**

 ** _There was nothing in the world_**  
 ** _That I ever wanted more_**  
 ** _Than to feel you deep in my heart_**  
 ** _There was nothing in the world_**  
 ** _That I ever wanted more_**  
 ** _Than to never feel the breaking apart_**  
 ** _All my pictures of you_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
(Brian's voice cracked during the last part of the song)  
 _"Shit! Christ! Can't do that one!"_  
(Brian sniffled back his emotions)  
 ** _"Let's try... Lovesong..."_**  
(Brian took the same intense care in practicing the chords and melody)  
 ** _"Fuck! I wish you could hear this, Mikey... Crap! Stop talkin' like a doofus, Kinney. Sappy, sentimental fool in love is NOT your reputation.... Long, lean sex machine... Christ! That sounds even worse.... maybe... well, no... well, yeah... wait, shit!... Here goes nothin'!"_**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Lovesong****  
 _**WORDS/MUSIC By Robert Smith**_  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am home again_**  
 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am whole again_**

 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am young again_**  
 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am fun again_**

 ** _However far away_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _However long I stay_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _Whatever words I say_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**

 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am free again_**  
 ** _Whenever I'm alone with you_**  
 ** _You make me feel like I am clean again_**

 ** _However far away_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _However long I stay_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _Whatever words I say_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
 ** _I will always love you_**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
(The last strains of the guitar blended with Brian's last note)  
 ** _"Oh, Lord! That one's even much worse! Nope! Nope! Nope! Can't do that! Can never do THAT to Mikey! Kinney, watch yourself!"_**

(There was another distant call from downstairs)

 ** _"Comin'! I'll be down in a minute!"_**

(Brian attempted to make himself presentable for viewing)

(There were sounds of the guitar being messed with)

 ** _"Keep it together! Keep it together!"_**

(Brian let out some puffs of air-pounding his chest)  
 ** _"You're alright, Kinney. You're safe here. You'll always be safe here... with Mikey..."_**

 **TAPE ENDS ABRUPTLY**

  
Tears fell unchecked down Michael's face. Without any doubt, Brian had loved him. Him, Michael Charles Novotny. If Michael had been blind to those feelings all those years ago, then who was to say the same didn't apply six days ago.

Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't he noticed how hazy Brian seemed? Even in simple discussion of late. Not like he was otherwise occupied, scoping out a beautiful conquest. No, he had been literally sideswiped by some emotional upheaval.

Big changes were coming in both their lives. That sounded like such a silly excuse to use when it meant completely ignoring Brian's state of well-being. Michael claimed to know and understand Brian Kinney, better then most people. Then why did he let other people get the best of him? Demanding HE conform and adjust HIS life to theirs?

When would it be HIS turn? When would HE finally get what he wanted? Craved? Lusted for, year after year?  
Throwing off his stereo headphones, Michael could hear the commotion coming from downstairs. Ma's *Pasta Night* was just starting. He knew who would make an appearance. Every single person he'd been meaning to confront for weeks, some of them months.

If things were going to change without Michael's consent, then somehow he had to find a way to *Become The Change*.

Make the shit HAVE to happen, instead of sitting around, dilly-dallying, letting Life and Love pass him by.

First, he had to make an important phone call...

 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

  


 **MICHAEL's CELLPHONE** \- **AUTO-DIAL UP FROM PHONEBOOK #1**

Two rings. That's all it took.

Michael closed his eyes, knowing that once he heard the voice, he'd become a mass of Jello... Wild Cherry flavor...

"H'lo?" The sleepy-tinged tone answered the line.

"It's me..." Michael felt that little word pierce his heart.

 ****Say something, dammit!!****

"Are you okay?"

 ****Well, I guess that WAS something****

"I'm fine. Let's simply say... I'm better then I was six days ago." Michael tried to snicker, but it fell short of completion. "Fuck! I miss you."

"Has it ONLY been six? It felt like forever." The voice got softer, like the person climbed under some blankets. "I missed you, too. I want to..."

"We need to talk."

"I know."

"I think there's been some HUGE misunderstanding."

"You, too? Strange that we both..."

"Fuckin' uncanny... and you know it!!"

"We can't seem to fight it, huh?"

"No..." ****I love you**** "Can I ask you a favor?" ****I adore you**** "You can tell me `no' if you're busy..." ****I want you in my life, for always****

"Anything."

"Leave the front door unlocked for me..." ****I'd die a thousand times for you**** "I need to get a few things said and done, make sure it's all square... but soon... I promise you... I'm gonna come home... to you..." ****I'd walk a million miles just to be near you****

 ****... just say you'll be there, the same...****

"I'll be waitin'..."

 ****Forever, I hope****

  
**CELL PHONE CONNECTION ENDED  
**

**  
**

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**   


**Back To Present Day Brian**

  


**  
**And On The Sixth Night... Brian Kinney DID implode, but it was mostly centered around his ice-cold, brittle heart.****

"Oh, Mikey..." A melodramatic arm thrown over my feverish forehead, I rested back amongst the pillows of my new, king-sized bed. "What fuckin' took you so long?"

I flopped over onto my stomach, drawing the sheets, blankets, comforter and pillows around me. I buried myself in them, completely naked underneath and anticipating Michael's arrival... sometime in the near future.

We'd talk, hash things out and hopefully repair what might have suffered some mild bruising and slight breakage. In another minute or two, I would get up to unlock my front door, but for right now... I needed to cry...

I suddenly realized how pathetic I really was... I would wait *forever* for Michael.

Hell, I hadn't done too badly with six days... kind of...

I'm sure the noises coming from me were strange. A mixture of laughter and wracking sobs.

Christ! I didn't know how good could it could feel to be among the Living again...  
 **  
**

**==========THE END==========**


End file.
